Shadows & Sorcery #10
Welcome to the tenth edition of Shadows & Sorcery! While this is a paid subscriber post, free sign ups can read the first story in full. The rest of this issue took on an interesting theme while generating names and I ran with it, so I hope you enjoy this slightly experimental landmark edition.
Today’s stories are:
Tower Outskirts
Lake of the Lord
Flames of the Drowned
Knights of the Sea
Drowned Lords
Tower Outskirts
The heaven-piercing tower of the wizard king Chrysotyraxion dominates the great plateau. It is no less than a full league in diameter and its height is beyond comprehension. Its surface is covered in alcoves, steps, overhangs, turrets, observation domes and more, leading all the way up into the clouds which gather around the hidden apex.
But at the base of the tower lies a sprawl of shanty towns and makeshift hovels. Nearest the tower lies a series of what were once massive walls, carved out into dwellings for the most prestigious and cutthroat inhabitants. They house crimelords and self-appointed nobility, for there is no true order here, and such dwellings are jealously guarded. Temples to escaped tower daemons and other slinking horrors exist here, too, hidden deep below the exterior structures. The entire sprawl is layered upon itself in twisting, maze-like tunnels, stairways, and snaking corridors. The ground is perpetually wet from gathered storms and waste, and sunlight rarely penetrates the deeper layers.
But beyond the tower base of stone there spreads a vast covering of shanty towns. Stone structures cease to exist in any form past a certain point and the slab-like sections of piled-upon hovels are naught but half-rotted wood and configurations of reclaimed steel. It is this vaster sprawl that came to be known as the Tower Outskirts. And yet it is no so wholly miserable that life doesn't survive. The hardy folk have adapted to their niche well, and are a sly, cunning, but fiercely protective people. They are descended from the conquered races enslaved by the wizard king two thousand years ago, but the king has receded far into the tower and has not shown himself in long centuries, and this land belongs to the people now.
The true reason life continues to exist in the outskirts is the thriving black market of stolen secrets from within the tower. The outskirts are a veritable paradise for thieves seeking to make a name for themselves or to test their skills. In ages past, shanty folk attempted to settle the lower levels of the tower but were rebuffed by the king's spells and minions. Yet those ingresses remain, and there is a constant stream of interlopers plumbing the various levels for secrets and artifacts to steal and sell. Many don't come out alive, dying from mysterious circumstances not long after their escape, others simply never being seen again.
Thieves are the hunters of the sprawl, their game is sorcery. Furtive figures flock to these hovels for the promise of magical lore lost to the ages, and forbidden knowledge comes at prices high enough to ensure a generation's survival in these humble conditions. The sprawl buzzes with magical practice, and it is more ritual than meagre produce or livestock that keeps these people strong.
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